Love Beyond the Grave

Another layer of Duan Xu's thousand-layered facade had peeled away, revealing the words "Bone Contraction Skill" clearly written upon it. This martial technique required training from childhood, bending every inch of one's bones to their limits day after day—a painful discipline. Take Fifteen, for instance; though taller than Lin Jun, he could disguise himself as Lin Jun, likely employing the Bone Contraction Skill.

Duan Xu walked to the window, lifted the curtain, and glanced around before remarking, "The Illusion-Breaking Sword is in that man's hands."

When he had been tied up earlier, his weapons were confiscated, and the Illusion-Breaking Sword ended up with one of the guards outside. Drawing a soft iron wire from his hairpiece, he coiled it twice around his palm and turned to He Simu with a smile. "Nightfall approaches. It's time to wrap up this play."

This man excelled at the unexpected, never taking a step that aligned with ordinary logic. Typically, those with profound cunning maintained an unflappable, inscrutable demeanor, yet Duan Xu was remarkably expressive—yet still deeply calculating.

He Simu studied him for a moment before leisurely saying, "Then I, a front-row spectator, shall wait and see."

The sun soon set, and darkness thickened. From the not-so-distant Shuozhou City came the sound of firecrackers, the lively and fervent atmosphere seeping through the thick city walls and camp gates. Clearly, the citizens of Shuozhou had no idea their general was currently trapped in enemy territory, accompanied only by an Evil Ghost. They were solely focused on welcoming a new year of favorable weather, free from illness and disaster.

The Hú Qì People did not celebrate the Lunar New Year. A soldier lifted the tent flap and entered to deliver food to Duan Xu. Like Shishi, he wore his hair in Hú Qì braids. After glancing at Duan Xu, still securely bound, he carelessly set the meal on the ground.

Duan Xu chuckled and said in the Hú Qì language, "Brother, how am I supposed to eat it like this?"

The soldier clearly hadn't expected Duan Xu to speak Hú Qì. As he looked up in confusion, Duan Xu was no longer on the rack. A length of soft steel wire coiled around his neck and abruptly tightened. He collapsed without uttering a sound.

Standing behind him, Duan Xu mercilessly tightened the wire until the man suffocated. Catching the falling body, he swiftly exchanged outer garments with the Hú Qì soldier. Duan Xu loosened his neatly tied hair, fingers nimbly weaving through the strands until he, too, resembled a braided Hú Qì man.

His braiding skills were evidently well-practiced.

He Simu watched with her arms crossed.

After binding the man to the rack and thoughtfully arranging his hair with a hairpiece and pin, Duan Xu patted his shoulder and said, "My apologies."

Now completely transformed into a Hú Qì man, Duan Xu donned a helmet and stepped out of the tent—only to be stopped by two guards at the entrance.

The night was pitch-black, starless and moonless, the torchlight too dim to clearly illuminate faces. "Password," demanded the guard.

It seemed they were somewhat vigilant.

Duan Xu sighed softly. "A pity."

Almost as soon as the words left his lips, the blade he'd taken from the soldier was already unsheathed. Like a swift black gale, he circled the tent in a flash. Before anyone could even cry out, the guards around the camp fell one by one, their throats slit, blood splattering across the ground.Duan Xu completed all this without a sound, then retrieved his Illusion-Breaking Sword from one of the guards. He discarded the cumbersome long blade in his hand, fastened the Illusion-Breaking Sword at his waist, and silently mouthed to He Simu with a grin, "They'll notice soon. Let's go."

His demeanor was like that of a mischievous child who'd accidentally set off firecrackers in a chicken coop during New Year—bolting after causing trouble without a shred of solemnity that should accompany killing.

He Simu narrowed her eyes slightly, floating beside Duan Xu atop her lantern pole. She watched as he moved between tents as silently as a cat, leaving countless men collapsing soundlessly in his wake. He had a habit of delivering fatal strikes with his sword while steadying his victims before they hit the ground, ensuring they fell quietly. It was a highly skilled assassination technique, executed with ruthless efficiency.

Soon, shouts erupted as soldiers discovered the escaped prisoners and the bodies. "They've escaped!" "Where are they?" "Over here—no, over there!"

Duan Xu's path was erratic—zigzagging east and west, doubling back—thoroughly disorienting the Hú Qì soldiers. No one could pinpoint his location or how many attackers there were. Some even shouted that hundreds of Great Liang soldiers had infiltrated the camp. To add to the chaos, Duan Xu cried out in perfect Huqi language, "The Han people are disguised as us!" The warning spread like wildfire, and soon, armed Hú Qì soldiers began eyeing each other with suspicion, wondering if their comrades were spies.

Like a wolf in sheep's skin amidst a flock, Duan Xu blended in, shouting along with them before slipping away to slaughter more in secluded spots. His winding route single-handedly threw the Huqi camp into disarray. Seizing the confusion, he slipped into the armory.

Grabbing two buckets of tung oil, he doused the siege chariots, then subdued a panicked horse outside and tethered it to one of the carts. With a flick of flame, he ignited the chariot. The scorching heat sent the horse into a frenzy—it bolted, dragging the blazing cart through the camp, setting tents aflame. To make matters worse, an unseasonable east wind arose that night, fanning the flames and amplifying the chaos in the Danzhi camp.

Watching this, He Simu suddenly recalled how, about half a month ago, Duan Xu had asked her when east winds blew at night.

Everything that had happened today had been meticulously planned by him.

After torching the armory, Duan Xu rushed straight into a nearby tent. The guards at the entrance tried to stop him, but he slipped past like an eel. Throwing open the flap, he shouted, "Report! The armory is on fire! The Han people set it ablaze!"

He Simu looked over—there, in the center of the tent, hurriedly donning his armor, was none other than Awoerqi, commander of the Hulan Army, surrounded by Danzhi officers and guards, their black braids swinging. Perhaps the situation was too chaotic, or Duan Xu's Huqi too flawless—he was only scolded briefly before Awoerqi, clutching his helmet, stormed out, cursing loudly in Huqi.As he passed by Duan Xu, the young man smiled slightly, and in a flash of cold light, the Illusion Breaking Twin Swords were unsheathed. Awoerqi’s guards were no ordinary men either—they immediately lunged to tackle Duan Xu. But how could they match his inhuman speed? Duan Xu spun away, his twin swords slashing left and right in movements so swift only shadows could be seen. Awoerqi’s head, eyes wide with shock, fell to the ground as easily as sliced tofu.

This was one of Danzhi’s famed generals, who would never have imagined capsizing in such a small ditch—dying at the hands of a boy not even twenty years old.

The guards’ blades still managed to wound Duan Xu’s shoulder. Combined with his previous injury, his left and right sides were now evenly matched in damage. With his right sword, Duan Xu parried the guard’s strike, while his left flicked up the severed head from the ground, swiftly wrapping and tying it to his waist. By the time this brazen assassination unfolded, a flood of Danzhi soldiers had already surged forward, surrounding Duan Xu in a tight circle—though momentarily intimidated, none dared approach.

Holding his swords in both hands, Duan Xu casually twirled them with practiced ease and remarked with a faint smile, “Wow, so many corpses.”

He said this in Chinese. Likely, in this entire camp, only He Simu could understand him.

Duan Xu took a slight step back with his left leg before charging headlong into the soldiers. His attire was so similar to that of the Hú Qì People that it disoriented his attackers—but that wasn’t enough. As he fought, he knocked over the lamps, extinguishing all four in the tent within moments. The entire space plunged into pitch darkness, broken only by the sounds of pained cries and bodies collapsing. The archers who arrived afterward were dumbfounded, unsure whom to shoot, and hastily called for torchbearers. But even they couldn’t push through the chaos, illuminating only a swirling mass of black.

Amid the turmoil, He Simu strolled leisurely through the commander’s tent. Danzhi had set up numerous identical tents outside the city, making it impossible to distinguish which was the command post. How had Duan Xu known Awoerqi was here?

As she walked, her foot suddenly kicked a plate. Bending down, she saw a porcelain dish holding several redtail fish, one already half-eaten. Glancing around, she spotted a trembling blue-eyed white cat in the corner—an expensive breed, likely imported from the Western Regions. Only someone of Awoerqi’s status could afford such a pet, let alone bring it to the front lines.

He Simu pondered for a moment, then thought, So that’s how.

Duan Xu must have known Awoerqi was a cat lover who never left his pet behind, even in battle—and fed it exclusively with Little Redtail Fish. That day on the city wall, when she told Duan Xu she’d seen soldiers carrying redtail fish into this tent, he must have realized it was the Hulan Army’s command post—Awoerqi’s quarters.

When He Simu looked up again, Duan Xu was already gone. The tent, now relit by torches, was filled with corpses—nearly every one killed by a slit throat, their deaths eerily uniform, though blood had spilled everywhere.

Hadn’t Duan Xu said something before the slaughter began— so many corpses ?

He Simu chuckled softly and murmured, “What an arrogant brat.”She floated out of the camp on the Ghost King Lamp and soon found her handsome little general. The Hulan Army camp was now in complete chaos—soldiers suspected each other of being disguised Han spies, the armory had been burned, flaming chariots careened wildly, setting everything ablaze, and their commander was dead. It was like a pot of boiling oil splattering everywhere after being doused with water. Duan Xu was sprinting at an astonishing speed. He reached the horse pens at the edge of the camp, seized a warhorse, mounted it, and galloped away.

Though some tried to stop him, their efforts were futile. Many were shot dead by the crossbow Duan Xu had snatched from some unfortunate soul. Soon, he was far beyond their reach.

—This troublemaker who wreaked havoc and then simply walked away.

Among the living, there was likely no one more skilled than him.

He Simu drifted to his side and asked coolly, "The armory?"

"Awoerqi always places the armory next to his command tent," Duan Xu explained briefly.

"You really are born with exceptional talent."

Duan Xu laughed, his tone lively. "The last person who said that was my master. He always thought I was clever and gifted, destined for greatness, so he treated me well. Though he made me start killing at seven and slaughter all my peers by fourteen. At least I managed to deceive him and survived thanks to his favor."

He Simu was taken aback, her gaze darkening slightly.

Bathed in the glow of the flames, Duan Xu was covered in wounds, his handsome and sharply defined face smeared with blood—whether his or others', it was unclear. Yet his eyes were extraordinarily bright, as if he were discussing something amusing, his cheerfulness almost excessive.

Before, though his eyes always held a hint of laughter and he seemed carefree, there had been a sharp glint deep within his gaze. But now, that glint seemed to be dissipating.

His joy was unnerving.

"What's wrong with you? Are you still lucid?" He Simu said coldly.

Anyone else would never think to ask someone who had effortlessly thrown the enemy camp into chaos and assassinated their leader—Are you still lucid?

Duan Xu seemed momentarily stunned.

Suddenly, two arrows shot through the air. Duan Xu dodged the first, but the second struck the horse's leg. The horse whinnied and collapsed, but Duan Xu leaped off in time, rolling once on the ground before standing up. He looked at the figure on horseback not far away, bow in hand, staring at him.

The Danzhi camp hadn't reacted quickly enough to catch up with Duan Xu, but someone had managed to intercept him.

Fifteen of Heaven Knows.

Fifteen's lips were pressed tightly together, his usually indifferent eyes now burning with fury. His crossbow aimed at Duan Xu, he ground out through clenched teeth, "Duan Xu! Who are you really? What have you done?"

Duan Xu was silent for a moment before bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Covering his forehead, his eyes curved with mirth as he said, "Isn't it normal for someone from Heaven Knows to take on a hundred alone and behead a general amidst ten thousand soldiers? Right, Fifteen?"

New Year's fireworks rose from Shuozhou City, blooming brilliantly in the sky, their multicolored lights illuminating the dark night and Fifteen's shocked expression.

"Senior Brother, you've got the wrong person. Han Lingqiu isn't Seventeen. He was supposed to die because he lost to me in the Nether Examination."

Duan Xu pointed at himself and said leisurely, "I am the real Seventeen."